


Even the Gallows Weep

by PotatooftheLand



Series: In Pursuit of Harmony [3]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BUT LET'S DO THIS ANYWAY!, Blind Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, I don't know how to characterise Diarmuid Alter, Neither do I know how to write for Fate/Grand Order xD, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Behavior, Post-Fate/Zero, Sequel, Slow Burn, Tsunderes, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-01-31 18:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18597022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatooftheLand/pseuds/PotatooftheLand
Summary: “Summon a Servant to search for them, I’ll try to establish contact.”You nod, tracing the grooves along the ground that are filled with scarlet as Romani Archaman runs back out the door. There’s no choice, nonetheless you couldn’t shake the inkling that this time would be different, that there would be no joyous reunion with the Lancer you fought the Fourth Holy Grail War with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Your local Potato back at it with stuff they don't know how to write, but they sure do love to post so here we are xD Alternate ending to Do no Guile nor Treachery, proceeds from after Chapter 22 after several years.

The wound, it won’t close and red stains the floorboards like water bubbling from a spring, trailing down your unconscious body. He’s shaking, trying to staunch the flow with his jacket but pressure only seems to make it worse, the blood refusing to clot as he holds you in a daze, doesn’t know what to do against either a poisoned or cursed injury--

“Take us back to my base, I have an antidote. My husband has faced Assassin before, we’re familiar with his tactics.” Sola Ui says abruptly, and he’s too focused on you to notice the clouded nature of her eyes.

What choice does he have? Without the aid of this magus, you would surely perish. She had assisted you against the enemy Servant when that shadowed figure had struck though, could have finished you but didn’t. Instead, the lady had stabilised you as much as possible, prevented you from choking to death right there from a slit throat. He risks a modicum of trust before hefting you both up and bolting out the window, guided by the woman’s directions.

Diarmuid scoffs at this now, for this decision had been the beginning of the end. Better that you two had died together in that room than what occurred, better to at least have been holding each other when you passed, knowing nothing of betrayal and bitterness. Regret certainly, but at least only a lake rather than oceans of it. What stupidity on his part, what ignorance he displayed at the ways of the world. To think that his curse would ever amount to anything less was nothing but a lie he had told himself, a false notion he clung to along with your honeyed words and empty assurances. You were naive, and he had _believed_ you so it was hard to tell who was the bigger fool.

Your face flashes in his mind, a hurt look that he would accuse you of such a thing. 

“...Oh, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to get injured...” your effigy claims quietly as he seethes and sulks, wants to lash out and cling to you simultaneously.

”Yes. Well, lack of insight and subsequent failure have always been something of a habit with you, hm?”

He regrets that sentence the moment he utters it, as you flinch and turn away miserably. He sighs, closing his eyes and reaching out to comfort you because he didn’t mean it, knows that none of it was your fault. He couldn’t blame you, not the one person he still loved in this accursed existence of his, even if they were just a projection of his fantasies. This echo of a Master he had adored, had trusted and wanted a future with but which fate had inevitably torn apart, torn from him.

“...I apologise, that was callous of me and untrue. It wasn’t your doing, there was no way you could have suspected this outcome. It was my duty to guard you, and I was ineffective. I’m sorry…”

_I failed you._

“It’s okay.” you forgive him, because you always do in these skits of his, always embrace him and he struggles to remember what the snug weight of you felt like, so comforting and soft.

He pretends the weight of your link still rests within him, luminescent and pure.

“I resent them so grievously, (Name). Hate them absolutely, without remorse and should they be burning in the deepest depths of hell I would wish their suffering be spread to all those that they ever cared about. Then they would know, they would understand for once in their miserable lives--!”

“Shh, I know. When you are called forth again, fulfill this commitment. Avenge me, and perhaps with the Grail’s limitless power I may be with you again...That’s what you want, right?”

“Of course! I love you, I love you more than I can articulate with any language on Earth...”

You return his ardent passions in these reveries, and he imagines the sensual taste of your lips against his, your limbs entangled and the heat of your bodies pressed against each other. Yet no matter how intimate these illusions are, he never hears you utter those three words back to him, as if his brain is some pretentious author with too much pride in their writing to make you _that_ out of character. As if it is too unrealistic to exist even a place like this. 

_“Diarmuid…”_

He jerks, your image in his mind vanishing because that was not his projection. He had heard it. For a moment, just a whisper on the wind, thought he heard you calling. He stands, his sliver of the Throne open moors and rolling hills, poised at the brink of eternal dusk, the sound of a stream running endlessly nearby. The Ireland he knew on his last day on Earth, the rushes and reeds that line the nearby brook sway in the breeze.

“(Name)?”

His plea is inaudible. But hope, ever undefeatable surfaces all the same and he hates that he’s _still_ after all this time, a fool who would clutch at lost ideals. Perhaps you had finally come to take him from here, would appear and lead him to an afterlife where he might find contentment, have something more than a fragment of your memory--

But no, the light that is breaking through the clouds...it is as it was before. He shuts his eyes, answers his summons because in those flickering seconds that stretched before materialisation, he can taste the kindling of warmth in his chest that reminds him too much of a lost bond. It’s just false nectar, meant to lure him out and he steels himself for the mage that he will have to serve.

\--*--

The fire at your feet, that leaps from the runes beneath is cold, searing and unnatural so that for a moment, you’re sure that you’ve made a terrible mistake. Then, you’re no longer alone, another presence fills your mind, link icy and guarded so that you cannot even tell what kind of Servant has appeared. They are not a class you know, not any that you recognise despite the fact that you’re searching, reaching desperately for that familiar connection.

There’s only silence.

A flicker of emotion. Shock, ~~hope~~ , sorrow, fury. You don’t understand.

“Who _dares_ taunt me this way?” snarls a voice, from so long ago but seething with hatred so violent that you are almost backpedalling, confused and hurt.

“...Diarmuid?”

But it’s him. Fractured within, the sharp edges catching on the surface of your contract, as if his heart had been crushed like glass. You know the smart thing to do would be to call for help, because he’s clearly aggressive, perhaps not even who you believe...Instead, you run forward, cover the space between you both and embrace him. He’s perfectly still, tense and stiff, just standing there unmoving. You reach out through your bond, a luminescence too bright, too foreign to him now, it singes, stuns him. 

His gaze slides slowly to your eyes, sightless and unseeing. He can’t breathe. Can’t understand how you’re here...Surely, this is some cruelty of fate? To torment him with your image...this ghost. He ought to strangle the life from this spectre of the past, but he can’t. Even after all the harsh lessons he’s been subject to, even after holding your corpse, mutilated for the sake of those wretched Command Seals. He can’t bring himself to hurt you, or any demon that might wear your skin. 

You have yet to ask for anything though, yet to try and manipulate some favour from him under the guise of fluttered lashes, innocent requests. Rather, you peel back, peering up, elated and expectant, like you’d been waiting for him all these years. And he’s thankful in that moment that you can’t see how he’s changed, when you’ve remained the same.

“I knew you’d come back for me, when I called…” you whispered and he can’t tolerate this blind trust, this reckless, misplaced faith in him. 

Not again.

He wants to push you away, wants to hold you forever.

“I...d-do you remember me? I’m (Name), we fought in the Fourth Holy Grail War together...” you say softly, as if he hasn’t heard your silent screams ringing through his mind, his daily nightmares since the last war. 

His arms wrap around you, lift you carefully as you allow him to pick you up, just hanging there naively in his grip, expression hopeful. It’s insufferable. Because, it’s exactly as it was before, it’s like stepping back in time. Then, he’s pulling you close, burying his face into the crook of your neck, strength just shy of being crushing. He can feel you nestling up to him, so utterly relieved he can’t--

He keeps you pressed to him, hearing your heartbeat against him. The Throne had granted him one more chance, summoned him back to this infernal world while his love still lived and for that, he was grateful. That his wish had seemingly already been granted… His fingers dig into your back, and you squirm, not liking the way hold was so...different, possessive and desperate.

He sets you down, fingers trailing your jawline. So he’s weak after all, to refuse to let go, to come running back the second he sees you as if he has learned nothing from his last two lives of how fleeting loyalty and love were. It’s pathetic, foolish and ignorant but inevitable. There’s no one else he loves, no one else he would willingly sacrifice anything of importance to.

He shuts his eyes, dreams of paradise. A distant isle where he might have you forever, no fear of pain or having to watch you wither with age. Where the grass shimmered with crystalline dew, ever green as eternal spring spun a thousand constellations across a sky untouched since the dawn of time. 

_Emain Ablach._

He’d travelled there once for the sake of a woman, and left without a trace of them in his heart. This time, he’d burn the sails of his ship if it meant you two could remain for as long as heaven’s clock continued to turn in this universe.

Diarmuid wakes, knows you both can reach this distant horizon if he is smart enough, for there was no use in fanciful wishes if one did not carve out a path to get there. He had flipped through your memories like a book, so openly shared with him, about this organisation Chaldea, how humanity was on the brink of collapse, the years since you had last met with him. 

“I missed you...”

Gods, what a mawkish thing for you to say, yet he’s drunk on it all the same...this earnest sentiment, this effortless trust he feels from you, simple contentment…Such sweetness has been rare and ephemeral to him. All the same, he feels almost aggravated by it. If you had so longed for his company again, why did you wait so long to summon him?

“...Are you okay?” you murmur, leaning forward and the gold in his gaze softens for you. 

“Of course, (Name).”

You grin, not wanting things to be awkward. But it has been a long time, so you suppose its only to be expected. Perhaps you do not look like what he remembers, aged too much. You feel around for your cane, dropped in your excitement before grasping his arm, tug him towards the exit. Reunions would have to wait. 

“I’m glad, I wish we could talk but there’s little time. There was an accident in the Command Room and a newly recruited Master along with Mash were Rayshifted into Fuyuki. We need to rescue them.” you explained as briefly as you could, finding him abruptly immobile.

“No.”

You stop, don’t even know what to say because he’s never denied you flat out before, tone calm but shutting down any rebuttal all the same.

“You are not to enter some fragile singularity into a hellish battleground on unvaluated technology, from which you may never return from. And neither will I leave you unguarded here for the sake of some inexperienced Magus given it is _clearly_ unsafe if there has been a recent explosion.” he elaborates as you gesture impatiently.

Ah, so he had dug through your knowledge of Chaldea already? You admit this surprised you, as you two had previously tended to respect the privacy of your own thoughts. But perhaps this had slipped through in your stressed state. It wasn’t important though. If he was already up to speed, he should know the gravity of the situation...

“What? Diarmuid please hurry, they could be injured! We can discuss details later!”

He shakes his head, gazing off through the corridors where he can sense another Servant in the distance and another presence approaching. He can only assume their Master. You narrow your eyes, don’t believe him as you start putting more of your weight into dragging him along, indicating your urgency. He refuses to budge, not even an inch. Still, he keeps you close as Dr. Roman appears from up ahead.

“(Name)? You’re here, good. I’ll establish contact once you’re across.” he says in a rush, reaching out to lead you into the correct room and finding his hand smacked away swiftly.

He flinches, surprised to find your Servant glaring at him. Apparently, you must not have gotten the old Lancer you had been hoping for, because you had fondly described him as “the nicest guy you could ever meet” which this Heroic Spirit definitely wasn’t. Not with the acidic sharpness in his expression, irritated and displeased at his attempt to touch you.

“It is far too dangerous, you have already lost an inexperienced, potential Master and others to that singularity. Now you desire to throw away a Grail war veteran and their Servant?” he interrupts coldly, as the doctor rubs his bruised wrist. “We’re leaving.”

Your distress is leaking through your bond, it’s confusion and incredulity as he makes to guide you away. You clutch at the front of his armour, dig your heels in. 

“Please, humanity is at stake!” you beg as he refrains from sighing. “I need you to help me...”

Quite frankly, it was a pity that humans were to be lost as a whole but as long as you and him were safe, then ultimately he would get over it. Yes, given the recent circumstances as you understood them, that would be difficult but he was not without a plan. Where you two were headed, there would be little interaction with mortals after all.

No, a year was plenty of time to acquire what he needed if he was strategic. Then even if the rest of the world were reduced to ashes, even if there was nothing...he would still have you. And that was everything to him. For something this precious, he was prepared to pay any price. Would not risk his salvation on time anomalies and catastrophic magus tournaments again. However, success could only be guaranteed by having access to at least one wish, the rest of his desires he would have to carry out personally...

“The singularity is powered by a Grail, Diarmuid. If we all survive, I’m sure they’ll agree to let you have it.” you quickly offered, as he smiled, not entirely kindly and you couldn’t read his emotions in that moment.

There was a dangerous, sinuous grace to this man, Dr. Roman noted as he prepared the console but did not intervene. You had called him Diarmuid, the name of your previous Servant. So why was this spirit so uncooperative? Someone you had lavished praise on for their loyalty and prowess, his graciousness and deference to the point of embarrassment? He held his tongue about suggesting you use a Command Seal, to need one this early was not a good omen.

You grit your teeth, didn’t need to _force_ him to do anything because if he were the Diarmuid you knew, he would follow you to the ends of the Earth.

“I want you to help me...but I’ll go alone if I have to.”

He drapes his arm over you, a deceptively friendly, protective gesture. As if he would let you kill yourself _again_. No, he can tell that you are still in the mindset of pastel tea shops that sold pancakes for breakfast, still refusing to acknowledge that the world rewarded neither kindness nor altruism. He had been like that once too, actively burying festering resentment in search of absolution. As if they had any right to grant it to him. He loved you, but he didn’t trust you. Knew that you would bar his attempts at attaining a haven for you both, knew you die before you would understand and by then, it would be far too late. You wouldn’t come back as he would, and once again he would be doomed to be without his cherished one for what would likely be the rest of eternity. So when you tried to pry yourself free, he didn’t let go.

“...What are you doing?” you ask quietly when you realise that he’s not allowing you to leave, that his weight both on your mana reserves and across your shoulders is far too heavy to be normal.

_Protecting my interests._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO FINALLY HAMMERED OUT A PLOT YEAAAAH It’s not a great one but it’s there xD Don’t know if I’ll manage to finish this one since FGO is a much harder base to work from than Zero :’((( since I can’t just go watch the clips to check characterisation and stuff, can’t even watch FGO First Order sadly. Oh well, look forward to hearing comments if people would like to leave any! <3
> 
>  **Some author notes!**  
>  \- I just spat this out today xD Since Diar Alter is kind of tricky to handle plot-wise on account of him just going after his own goals, I suspect I will be writing myself into corners frequently and be retconning as I go x’D Everything I write is being proofread as it progresses xD
> 
> \- Alter Diar’s Grail war was me giving everyone the worst possible Servant/Master configuration I could think of in Zero that wasn’t canon xD Exception being Lancer ofc because canon already gave him that lol
> 
> \- Assassin if always Reader and Lancer’s greatest opponent because Reader cannot sense anyone with high enough Presence Concealment, without sight they are completely off her radar. Some notes floating around the Nasuverse have also indicated that Lancer would not be able to defeat Assassin or that he was weak against them or something, I’m assuming this means when they are in a group and not individual
> 
> \- I have literally no clue what the plot of Grand Order is, so prepare for the canon-divergence being real xD
> 
> \- Going to try out flashback + present style, not sure if that will be bad but I’m open to feedback. I’ll try it for a few chapters since I really want to build Diar Alter’s Zero timeline without trekking through another full 50k >> but understand that this breaks up the action so to speak. 
> 
> \- ALSO really wanted to have true end Saber Diar summoned later into this verse and butt heads with Diar Alter xD Just because I’m an absolute sucker for the mcdrama and made Saber Diar head over heels for Reader xD But I’m positioning Diar Alter and protective/rather possessive over them as well so it would be a mess...Technically, Saber Diar is the true Diar for Reader’s timeline though so he should be with them but honestly it’s way too complicated and I wouldn’t be able to resolve it xD So I might explore the idea in my spinoff but not in a long haul, I mean my solution to Cu and Saber Diar was just poly but there’s no way I think Diar would poly with his other self xD


	2. Chapter 2

“What do I need to do to get you into that singularity?”

“I need you to be safe, dear (Name). But amongst strangers and with an enemy Servant nearby, that is not something you could promise me.”

“Enemy Ser-- You mean da Vinci? Can’t you see my memories? Dr. Roman and her are our allies! We’re not engaged in a traditional war.”

He narrowed his eyes, leaned forward.

_"Think (Name), Chaldea is a fortified facility deep in the heart of Antarctica. Who do you think detonated the bomb? Evidently someone within the organisation, someone with sufficient clearance. A traitor is among you."_

_"They activated the backup generators, and allowed me to summon a Servant. That’s not something a traitor would allow me to do."_

_"Perhaps they wish to steal your Seals. It would give them significantly more power, no? This man is not even a magus, he would need an avenue to call forth a powerful spirit. You could easily be made to join the ranks of comatose potential Masters in the Control Room, an easy excuse. Explosives are means of destruction for someone without Magic Circuits."_

_"...He’s not like that, stop being paranoid. Please trust me, our colleagues could be dying right now!"_

He straightened up, attention turning towards the Caster that had stepped into the hallway and was approaching. There was a light in the depths of her eyes that made him tense, a certain intelligence and understanding of the world that made her dangerous. He could tell he was being assessed, his capabilities and flaws, from what little could be gleaned from him simply standing here, the tilt of his body that shielded you _just_ imperceptibly. But she appeared female, so from that he had some power. Whether a curse or not, the fact of the matter was that his Love Spot was a weapon to be controlled. Ideally, a subtle knife for manipulation rather than a brazen, all consuming passion in the hearts of women for his affection…Still, within what would surely be her bounded field, he didn’t want to reveal his abilities where she would be able to detect and likely mitigate it’s effects.

“You are an interesting development...” she says, tone curious and not at all hostile despite the urgency of the situation. “Let’s see...you obviously care about (Name), and would like a Grail. However, by refusing to work with us, you will be able to attain neither of your goals.”

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t like the way she’s rifling through his motives. No, he’s cautious enough to know that it is best not to give anything else away with words, even if his body language had already betrayed too much. 

“You will be given no access to any of Chaldea’s technology since unaffiliated guests are not privy to confidential research, and have no other means of contacting a Grail besides the one inside this current singularity . Ah, you assumed that you were summoned by the power of one? Well, that is not the case. There is no Grail here.”

“...You are a fraud Servant.” he finally bites out, because Dr. Roman held no seals and why wouldn’t she go herself if she were so invested--?

“If you would like to call it that. I cannot fight on the front lines myself though, I am bound to Chaldea as are all other FATE summoned spirits.”

“Convenient.” he snipped, but was trying to calculate what that meant from your vague understanding of this place’s Guardian Heroic Spirit Summoning System.

So her Noble Phantasm was sealed without a proper magus anchor? He suspected that Servants called forth in this farcical manner could not attain their full strength. Yet if there were truly no Grail to support his materialisation, then how was he not hampered by these limitations, especially considering the amount of additional power and mana his Avenger form contained? 

“Should Mash and Ritsuka die, do you think that (Name) would consider you blameless? Given that you’re already not who she thinks--”

“Do not attempt to sow discord between us.” he snaps, interrupting her heatedly.

But there’s an edge in her gaze, steady and appraising. How much did she suspect? Did she already know he was not from your timeline? Surely she could not know more than what he did about you and his summoning? This Servant must have some form of Clairvoyance...He considered finishing her now, since she would be a formidable foe if allowed to contract properly into this world. They were in close proximity, she herself had walked over. But distance would favour a Caster so she must not feel threatened by him--

“There’s no need for me to do that. You’re doing a fine enough job by yourself.” she retorted airily and he bristled, grip around you tightening.

You’re still peering at him, eyes expectant and hurt and it makes him want to scoff. Of course you would take this Caster’s side, would trust her over him. He just wants you two to be happy, somewhere far from here, away from it all. Yes, selfish but his previous wishes hadn’t been for the greater good either.

_"I must go if you won’t Diarmuid, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to but neither can you seek to stop me."_

He can’t show weakness now, not in front of potential opponents but all the same his heart still leaps to do your bidding like a wayward animal. Of the two options, he knows which he prefers. He’s afraid though, scared that he’ll return to only a broken corpse again and he can’t, won’t live through that ordeal a second time…

No, it would be safer for you by his side, if prophecy and past experience held any truth. 

“Very well, I will enter the singularity with my Master to obtain the Grail.” he acquiesced shortly, clasping you and starting forward.

 _"Thank you, Diarmuid…"_

He takes one glance at the screen overlooking the Japanese city, swallows the memories that spill over through his mind.

\--*--

“Going to say your goodbyes to that Master of yours? You must have known someone like her was doomed from the start. An admirable effort given her circumstances, but a pity that her motives are as dull and boring as the rest of the mongrels in this war.”

Diarmuid clenches his fists, glaring at the ground before rounding on the Archer leaning casually against the wall, infuriating grin adorning his haughty features. Your bond is cool in his chest, distant as the Bóthar na Bó Finne that wove through the stars above. Still, he clutches at the water that seeps between his fingers like a man parched.

“In case it eludes your understanding, Gilgamesh, your situation would deteriorate if she perished regardless of how sanctimonious all that gaudy glitz makes you feel.” he growls sharply, reaching for the handle, knuckles white and metal creaking beneath his grip. “Her death would mean mine, then I imagine you’d have a grand time listening to Sola Ui’s complaints and enjoying her mana cuts.”

The King of Heroes laughed, crimson eyes gleaming with mirth, as he straightens up.

“You know nothing, do you? That’s why tragedies like you are so predictable, you repeat your histories like clockwork.” he scoffs before disappearing into gold dust, his cryptic words like ash on his tongue.

He throws open the door, fearing the worst. You’re no better than when you first arrived in this shadowed warehouse to Kayneth and his golden Servant. They had both expressed disgust at your presence which he resented. While Sola Ui had quickly turned unlikeable given her frequent attempts at seducing him over healing you, she was at the very least maintaining your condition which only seemed to further antagonise her fiance. Archer revelled in this chaos more than he detested his Master apparently, if he increased presence were any indicator.

“(Name), please wake up…” he begged, propping you up a little to check your progress, or lack there of more accurately.

But he’s greeted with only silence.

\--*--

Diarmuid opens his eyes.

Back into the inferno it seemed, after all this time. Smoke and sulfur plague the air, a poisonous miasma and it’s no place for his cherished lady. But there’s little choice, he cannot be apart from you lest you depart from him as had been foretold. You have a hand on his elbow as he surveys the fire and brimstone that has befallen Fuyuki, the absence of any life and the distant yowls of monstrous beasts. He settles you in his arms, feels your perception magic sharpen his senses as he pinpoints a far off surge of power towards the mountains.

“There’s no life here, the only signatures are at the outskirts.” he reports before launching himself towards the distant energy well.

“...I can feel it too, the emptiness. It’s eerie, I hope the others are okay...What do you think happened here?”

“I’m uncertain. But from your memories it seems like the destruction of the Lesser Grail caused widespread carnage. Perhaps there was an attempt to attack the Greater Grail.”

“Maybe...hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” there’s a telling pause as he carefully shields his thoughts, sequestering away unnecessary information. “You feel different, sustaining you takes more than I remember and my reserves have deepened since we last met. You’re not a Lancer anymore either...I thought I’d be able to recognise another class but apparently not.”

“Mhm.” he stops briefly on the roof of an abandoned tower to orientate himself, and you feel him form his Noble Phantasm, take your hand and place it against the hilt.

“A sword?” you say, surprised and he hums affirmatively again, making sure your fingers stay clear of the edge. “How does it feel to be a Saber now?”

He returns Moralltach into dust, doesn’t correct this assumption. You can’t tell that he’s deceiving you, so even your bond with him is not infallible. He can manipulate what you perceive of him through it...how curious. But it is not without reason he withholds information. There’s a stigma associated with Avenger Servants after all, being spirits of vengeance. This assumption is not wrong in the slightest, he is roiling with bitterness, fully intends on wreaking his deserved retribution on all those who had ever stood against him. But you wouldn’t understand. Not even on your deathbed had you held animosity...no, only fear. You were naive to the end, like a lost kitten who was lucky that someone had come by to take care of you. He doesn’t want you prying as to what has caused him to be summoned in this class. Just wants to serve them their just desserts, then run away with you somewhere you two can be at peace. 

He exhales.

He had needed power, needed something _more_ to be able to achieve his wants. But he was a demigod after all, son of Donn, raised by Aenghus Óg and by the gods had he brought his weapons from Manannán mac Lir and the Otherworld to deliver havoc in this life. It was understandable that you were burdened by the cost of his four Noble Phantasms. He’d also let Divinity flow through his veins in this form, for there was little room to be humane in a cruel world. You couldn’t protect what you cared about if you were weak.

“Good, I’m stronger now.”

The roads flash by, hardly recognisable. But even now, he feels roiling fury flicker through him as he passes the warehouse, glimpses it’s depths. You shift, tucked up against him with your arms around his neck.

“It’s over...there’s no point dwelling on it.” you murmur reassuringly in response to his swelling emotions.

He shakes his head. No, they do not get to die such quick deaths without any repercussions. But he’s comforted by your warmth against him nonetheless, your presence and bond in his chest so he doesn’t contradict you. He understands the risks of meddling with history after all, but that doesn’t mean he’s not set on inflicting curses on every single one of those on his list. He laments that your morals no longer align...but it’s alright, such differences can be overcome. Eternity was a long time to change one’s mind, and he wondered who would crack first. Because despite the magnitude of his rage, when he looks at you, he can almost set aside his grudges, if only for the moment he appreciates how lucky, how implausible it is for you to be reunited at all. Then it returns to him, how it feels to keep living after someone has torn out your heart, the emptiness within...he remembers that it would be irresponsible not to condemn them for their sins, ~~He wants them to suffer, wants them to have a taste of what it’s like to lose the only thing true to them.~~

The quiet stretches on until you two reach a cavernous opening in the cliffside. The ground shakes as he narrows his eyes, there’s a pillar of flames rising high enough to breach the clouds above. A Wicker Man? So the war was still progressing... He secures you more tightly before sprinting into the depths.

Diarmuid skids into an open chamber behind a bunch of kids and an almost comically villainous man atop a rocky outcrop. He sets you down, summons his weapons as he watches Leff call a small golden crystal to him, uses it to open a gaping portal behind him to where a miniature sun is suspended between revolving metal arcs. That amount of magical power...that could only have been the Holy Grail of this war. Apparently it had been compressed from it’s original chalice form. Your perception enhancement whispers that he needs it to get you out alive.

“What is that? I-It’s not real, is it? That’s just a virtual image, right Leff?” Olga Marie asks desperately, eyes wide from where she stands at the base of the ridge.

The man laughs, not bothering to take note of their newest visitors. They would come later, first, he would deal with the director, who was still standing there foolishly, shocked at his betrayal but not enough to attack him. Her trust and attachment would condemn her to perpetual death.

“It’s the real thing, I’ve linked together spacetime for you. This is the fate of your family’s lunacy!” he informed her with a grin. “Behold, you may touch your greatest treasure.”

His fingers glow gold as he levitates the magus up towards the abyss where she would spend eternity in torment, torn apart molecule by molecule--

He suddenly stumbles, drops the Animusphere woman to the ground amidst her cries of confusion and terror as he finds his chest pierced by a red longspear that has been thrown at nearly blinding speed. He glares, fury causing the cave around to them to tremble through a surge of power as he coughs, opens another gateway nearby to leave...But a Servant is there, having leapt past a stunned Shielder with Gáe Buidhe and Beagalltach in hand, not dematerialising Gáe Dearg so he couldn’t heal with a hole through his lungs but neither did the the Grail allow him death. He tries to rise, finds himself pinned to the floor by the lance, unable to speak with the blood that bloods his throat.

This presumed Lancer must be a shadow Servant, clearly Altered so how is he still present after the end of the war and why isn’t he obedient?! The glare in those gilded eyes is not like Saber’s though, there is something far more self-serving and deluded than even a corrupted King of Knights held.

“Give me the Grail.”

He raises his arm, intent on casting an incantation but--

The flash of a blade. He stares in horror and pain as his outstretched limb lies on the ground and the Servant cuts it to pieces searching for the gem, as if it might be stored in his hand. No, it was clear he would be decapitated once he realised that the diamond could not simply be ripped out of his body. He wrenches at the Noble Phantasm futilely, struggles to dissipate into another point in history even as he sees the Yellow Rose of Mortality slicing through the air, aimed at his severing his neck. He panics, generating the Grail in his palm and in the path of the deathblow. Diarmuid shifts his aim at the last moment so the wound digs deep across his face instead of accidentally smashing the treasure. 

The Grail is yanked away, just as Leff vanishes back to his king on the residue power of it, the cavern collapsing as the singularity reaches it’s limit. Avenger snaps his gaze around back to you, having claimed his prize and crossing the chasm opening along the ground. The cacophony of the falling rocks drowns out all the shouting. 

He darts back to your side, throwing you up onto his shoulder and out of the way of the debris that is raining down. You’re boosting him and Mash, but it will be of little assistance if the ground no longer exists. He fumbles, tries twice before splitting open a small flickering rift between time and space back to Chaldea, hurls you to safety even as he hears you cast spells to pull the others through as well. You had expected him to open portals for each of your companions...but that wasn’t what he came here for. He steps through without them.

“Diarmuid, use that Grail to call them back!”

He glances back through to Fuyuki. Already, he could feel the power of this device had lessened from it’s extensive use. It disgusted him honestly, to think that _this_ was all that those gruesome tournaments had been fought for, these artificial fragments. No where near the amount needed to grant any desire of substance. It was useful certainly...but not enough. Besides, had he not attacked Leff for this gem, how had Dr. Roman and da Vinci intended on returning you two? Had they perhaps intended leave you in there? Tch, if they were truly allies, they would find a way to save their friends themselves. He held no obligation to anyone but (Name). You must have sensed his hesitation, as he felt you grab his wrist.

There’s a blaze of voltage through his entire being, nothing he’s felt before.

“By my Command Seal…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic plot is either going to be the greatest thing I’ve written or absolute trashiest, there is no in between because of all the timeline bullshit that will go on and the fact that FGO is the most Nasu of Nasu verses. You know what I mean, where it contradicts itself and shoe horns explanations xD But,,,but I’ve decided to go 150% self indulgent so we going straight back to the beginning at the end xD It’s going to be the most bullshit explanation but at the same time, that is the most canon thing I could have possibly done so xD 
> 
> Apparently kudos to hits ratios are pretty low in this fandom (or its just this fic orz xD but given how niche it is as a sequel, understandable) but thank you very much for the comments! <3 Super appreciate that people were hyped for this because I initially was but now I’m just the confusion xD YEAAHH 3 TIMELINES + NOT KNOWING FGO’S PLOT WOOT WOOT xD I almost need a diagram to plan this plot xD (if someone has a summary of FGO ending when fighting the big bad that would be 10/10 xD Everything else I will make up. Da Vinci and Dr. Roman are OOC because I’ve never seen them in my life T-T )


	3. Chapter 3

“...use the Grail to materialise the director’s physical form and consciousness back here in Chaldea!” 

The golden crystal flickers as he is made to wish upon the trinket, gleaming brilliantly as the energy burns, evaporating and mending the broken body of some prestigious magus that lies buried beneath the rubble of the Command Room. Her spirit is jerked back through the gap between space time that is yet to close… The gem rises, the intensity within released all at once, blazing until nothing remains. He stares, watches his hopes vapourised by the one he loves.

The silence stretches.

“You promised me the cup.” he states quietly, pleasantly as if he’s not swallowing his indignation and anger at this betrayal. “Promised not to force me into anything.”

“...I know, I’m sorry but the director would have died even if she had been Rayshifted back then. She needed it more...and we didn’t have time for me to explain it to you.”

“Had I not intervened, she would have perished regardless. We’ve wasted a Grail (Name), on someone who doesn’t matter. That was _mine_ , _I_ was the one who fought for it! It was not your decision to do with it as you pleased.”

You blinked, surprised at his tone and...disregard, vitriol. Where was this greed for wishes coming from? When he had wanted nothing in the last war but to serve a leige? There’s a hunger for power where there once was deference and need for affirmation.

“How can you consider a life saved a waste? I apologise for compelling you to use it but I assumed you would consider it a necessary investment. Our mission was to rescue _all_ survivors.”

“ _Your_ mission.”

You whip around, sensing a sudden flicker of lifeforce beneath the collapsed stage of the room that cuts your dispute short. It could only be one person...

“Diarmuid, the director. Please, help me pull her from the wreckage, the beams are too heavy for me to lift.”

He had half the mind to just let her die to demonstrate the futility of your actions. He’s seething that you’ve made him throw away something so valuable and integral to his plans, especially when they were for _you_. He doesn’t respond and your bond wilts under his bitterness. Despite that, your faith that he will come to aid you still blooms and he wonders if this belief in his loyalty to you has passed the point of rationality. 

He shuts his eyes. It is not misplaced. Because he can’t stay mad at you for long, knows that this is _exactly_ the kind of thing you would do. He didn’t think he would tolerate even this slight treachery from anyone else, but knew you had meant no malice. If he could gain the director’s favour...it would be useful in accessing Rayshift technology and other resources he would require in lieu of a Grail. Given that he was the reason she was alive and female, he had a feeling that this would not be too difficult. It merely complicated matters…

You crouch where you can sense her presence, feeling the steel and concrete beneath your hands. When you turn to him, the look in your eyes is expectant and relieved that he is here. You just assume that he will assist you. As if he could do no wrong, and even as he approaches, he can seive through your thoughts, hear you rationalising his actions. Surely he hadn’t known how to use the Grail properly? That was why he hadn’t opened gateways for the others? He must not have sensed that Olga Marie was just a consciousness in that singularity, didn’t know that she had needed a physical form ~~even though he should have known everything you did~~.

“Just hold on, you’re going to be alright.” you yell down to the woman, who is hidden from view, barely conscious.

He crosses his arms, waits just long enough for you to start getting anxious before stalking over and heaving the debris aside. He carefully maneuvers the magus out, laying her onto the ground as you stabilise her condition.

“Lady Animusphere, are you well?” he queries ‘worriedly’, as she coughs. “You have nothing to fear now, we will care for you.”

Diarmuid props the woman’s head up onto his lap, arranging her so you have better access. He flares his charm enchantment slightly when they make eye contact, hoods his gaze and smiles. She predictably gapes, stunned at what she is seeing, wondering whether she had died and was in the arms of an angel. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen...

The doors bursts open at that point, as a frazzled Romani barrels through, taking in the scene and rushing forward, not that Olga Marie notices. She’s enraptured, her emotional state and stress rendering her particularly vulnerable, their proximity too close. You stiffen, noticing the way her emotions fluctuate from panic and confusion into awe and captivation.

“I...wh-what?” she blubbers, flustered and staring as your Servant internally mocks such a display, her cheeks clearly reddening despite the events that have just transpired.

You swiftly push your sunglasses off and onto his face.

“Diarmuid, we need to get your Love Spot covered up.” you hiss, sending Olga Marie into sleep to avoid the curse and he makes a surprised sound, as if guilty for this lapse.

“My apologies, (Name). I must have lost control of it momentarily…” he lies easily, swiftly deactivating it again. “There, it is done.”

“(Name)! You’re alright? When I hadn’t managed to Rayshift you back in time--!”

Diarmuid narrowed his eyes. They had only had time to return one of the Servant-Master pairs he construed, and it was clear who their decision had been. Despicable, but not unexpected. He supposed it was only natural, Mash and Romani had an almost parental relationship so he would have felt a level of responsibility over her. Still, he added it to his list of grievances that would be used somewhere down the line. The fact that you used to Grail to return Marie, assuming that the doctor would focus on saving Shielder and her Master first let him know that you had foreseen such a choice as well. Then why did you bother worrying about them when you were clearly secondary? Let them perish, as they would have let you.

_It’s not like that, Saber. How can you ask someone to choose between people they care about? He knew we could hold out for longer, as I was the more experienced magus._

_They consider you disposable, you mean._

“We’re safe, the director too.” you soothe, standing. “Ritsuka?”

“Resting, they should make a full recovery, Caster is with them. I-I didn’t think the director would make it after what Leff said.... I’m glad you’re all okay.” he admits, walking forward as you shake your head.

“We used a Grail, she wouldn’t have made it otherwise. As long as she isn’t converted into Spiritrons again...she should be fine. Come’on, we should get her to a room.”

“Of course, this way! You two must be exhausted...we can discuss the events later when everyone’s conscious again.” he quickly offers, as Avenger picks up the magus and you two follow him to one of the many empty guest chambers. “I’ll let da Vinci and Mash know what’s happened.”

\--*--

“So how did you come to work in Chaldea?”

“Ah, tired of torrenting my memories into that noggin of yours directly?”

He detects a touch of reproach from his avid rifling over the last few hours. Undoubtedly this is spurred by the fogginess of his own past to you.

“It has been a decade, it’s a lot of information to read.” he dodges lightly as you two walk through the empty corridors back to your room.

“I worked on SHEBA alongside Leff, our Near-Future Observation Lens . I never particularly liked him...but there’s no point on commenting about old colleagues now I suppose. Olga Marie does have an unfortunate dependence on him though, hope she’s doing alright after all this.”

“To mourn his departure at all is childish of her.” he agrees as you sigh.

“They practically _are_ still kids. Marie, with the weight of the world on her shoulders at that age? And Ritsuka? _Even_ younger? Don’t get me started on Mash, not even legally an adult yet. Sixteen.” 

“Yes, and their inexperience shows. But perhaps not for long depending on the calibre of our enemies.” he said flatly as you shut your eyes. “Shielder is not too poorly for a last minute Servant, but having a lacklustre Master doesn’t help her cause.”

“You’re too harsh. We were much the same during our first war, and we made it through just fine. Besides, it’s all the more reason for us to help them. With Romani and Caster on our side, they’ll be alright in the end.” you chastised softly, wondering where that surge of bitterness came from.

“Did you see that through SHEBA? I’d take it with a grain of salt since it seems readings through this machine can change as and when they please.” he retorted, brushing off your false assurances.

Thus complacency was the price of success apparently, if you could know how hollow your words ring, maybe you would not have said them.

“...No, it’s just a feeling.”

So prescience had been the branch of magic you chose in the end, he wondered whether it were a habit of history for prophets to be blind. Unable to accept reality, that a newbie magus being thrown into the depths of this chaos with an equally green Heroic Spirit were unlikely to make it out alive. Whatever, he supposed it was none of his concern. He only needed to make sure you two got through this in one piece.

“Hm, can’t see what is right before your eyes so you take to ‘feeling’ the future.” 

“You should understand. Couldn’t turn into a can of brine-soaked sardines so decided to become the saltiest guy instead.” you joked and he blinked in surprise that you would tease him even this lightly, and there was a half-grin on your face. “...Guess we’ve both changed, huh?”

“You could say that.” he replied guardedly as you exhaled.

“So...what happened? You’re heavy now.”

“Yes, I’d imagine you’d have difficulty carrying me. Thankfully for both of us, you do not need to.” he quips back smoothly. “I’d be dialling the restoration magi already if so.”

You chuckle. Certainly your strength was nothing compared to his, but you’d probably be able to lug him at least a few meters...You pat your chest, where the weight of his mana consumption is most prominent. You hadn’t meant physically anyway.

“Haha. That’s not what I meant and you know it…” you reply, before returning to your question. “Your mana cost, your mood...I can’t even see your memories clearly.”

He hesitated. Yes, it was true he was obscuring them. But if you peered through them you would know he wasn’t _your_ version of him. That somewhere out there, was your true Saber. He didn’t think he could handle being second fiddle to anyone, least of all the ‘himself’ formed from a road not taken, that might have been his if only he had been smarter, quicker-- 

He didn’t want to risk you summoning another Servant, was sure that if you did it would be him. Yes, it was petty and jealous but he _knew_ himself, knew that your true Saber would call him fake and demand that he leave you alone, view him as a safety threat. Would trail after you with undisguised adoration like the fool he had been...He grit his teeth at the thought. To open your bond would be to reveal too much, of his greed, his rage. You wouldn’t understand. Prompted by this subconscious cue, you continued.

“...I saw you through the lens. Saw a Saber at my side, and it felt just like you had back during the Fourth Holy Grail War. I’m sure it was you...yet, you’re not like you were in the vision.” you admitted and he slunk closer, trying to ascertain what you were withholding for the sake of ‘politeness’.

“Perhaps the device was flawed back then. Either way, I have few memories to share beyond fragments.”

You turn to him, startled. The summoning was improper? Why hadn’t he said so earlier? Then again...it had been a pretty hectic meet and greet. You bit your lip. Was that why you hadn’t managed to summon him all those years ago? Back when you had been trying to rally support to shut down the Grail Wars? Your first time _had_ been a fluke but you considered yourself proficient in magecraft by this point. Ritsuka had managed to contract to Mash after all in the heat of the moment, so to think that you were less able hurt a little.

You shook your head. Mash was a demi-Servant, her costs would be less than Diarmuid’s. You meant no offence to the girl but your companion here was evidently a more complicated summon. Or maybe, that’s just what you told yourself.

“...I apologise, didn’t realise that the summoning hadn’t been done properly. Yes, I remember you saying you’d seen the destruction of Fuyuki before through ‘my memories’.”

He hummed, an oversight on his part. But he supposed if he was going with the improperly materialised cover story then this was on brand. He doesn’t want to make you doubt your abilities but it couldn’t be helped.

“They should return over time, but we can go see da Vinci to check if anything can be done.” you offer and he can feel your uncertainty over the circumstances.

He shakes his head, then amends that to a ‘no’.

“...Alright, well I suppose I should be grateful then that you remember who I am, huh?”

“...I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

You reach your room, once again marked with a rune so that you can locate it among the sea of doors in the living quarters. The lights are off, and he doesn’t bother turning them on as neither of you require them. He spies a familiar llama plushie tucked under your covers. Ah, the sentimentality of such objects. Yet, he’s touched all the same that you kept the thing, green bow and all. Apparently your timelines had yet to diverge then, you had still burnt mana for nothing, to give him a fleeting taste of elation from winning something. Trivial, inconsequential happiness.

“...Are you mad at me?” you asked quietly, because he had treated Marie so cordially, didn’t seem to afford you that same politeness.

He rolled his eyes. He was certainly _annoyed_ that you had pulled that stunt, but he wasn’t resentful of this fact. Didn’t hold a grudge about this. Not to you. Besides, he was sure that had he been enraged, you would be aware promptly. Your soft temperament wasn’t something that could be changed, was a fact he had merely accepted unlike his hatred for those who had wronged him out of their gluttony and desire for selfish things.

“No.” he replies simply, watching you set about washing up for the night.

You load up something on your phone, expertly navigating the buttons by touch alone. You flick through before fluffing back over to him with a smile.

“Good, because I bet you look like this when you’re sulky.” you teased with a grin.

He stared at the photo. The caption underneath was spoken aloud by your screen reader as ‘no talk with me im angy’, then depicts a baby panda staring at a wall.

  
  
_Someone took a photo of you when you're mad! (the fabled 'no talk to me i'm angy' pic with the floofiest baby panda sulking in a corner xD) - Steve_

“...(Name) that is a bear cub.”

“Haha! Yeah, isn’t it funny though? I've had it described to me.”

He sighs, ruffling your hair and wondering how you even had a picture like that. He can tell you’re trying to lighten the mood, trying to connect with him like you did before, when your link was iridescent and radiant. But that sun has already set. In any case, it was unlikely he would be much like this when he was furious. Rather, this seemed a more accurate depiction of you when angry. No, when he was incensed, he would let it be known to those which had caused it in this life. Enough biting his tongue for the sake of imbeciles and malicious men, lustful women. This time, let their blood be spilt before his, let them be slain on the edge of his spears. He strokes you, bundles you close to sap your comforting warmth. You pat his back a touch awkwardly. 

“Steve sent that to me... It always made him laugh so I thought maybe you’d like it too.” you explained as he nodded, a flicker of jealousy crossing his emotions.

“Rather insensitive to send you a _photo_.” he snips as you shrug, it was the thought that counted and you appreciated him telling you about it.

You shut your eyes. Diarmuid feels the same, his arms around you weighed but secure. Protective, maybe overly so and certainly tighter than before. His armour is different, bulkier than the skintight outfit he used to sport. His acidity was new...and you were wary of it. This resentment buried deep within all welling to the surface at once. You thought he had been better by the end of the war, but perhaps you had merely made things worse. You didn't want to believe that though, because under all his bristling at you there was still the same, unbreakable devotion and adoration for you, if not a different kind. You held onto this, the fact that he still loved you.

“...What would you have used the Grail for instead? Did you anticipate that we would need it to save more lives? Is that why you tried to keep it?”

He deadpanned. No, not everyone was some paragon of virtue and it was high time you accepted that. He would fail your expectations in this regard always if this was where your bar was set.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted everyone to take a look at that picture of a baby panda that I found, so you all shall xD Haha, tbh I think Avenger would be semi sulky panda with Reader if he's mad at her, but with others he'll probably be more violent xD Gahhh the slow burn amirite?? 9k words already and we are still in the beginning, going no where xD There are like 7 singularities...don't think we're going to go through all of them because for real that + Avengers Zero plotline + his original plotline??? We'll be here for 20 years xD I've also downloaded FGO at long last so using that to try and learn da Vinci and everyone else's characters! Trying to decide Ritsuka's gender as well, whether they should be Gudao or Gudako. I wanted to have both of them running around but didn't know what to name the second one then xD One of them Ritsuka, the other one Fujimaru??? xD xD lol


	4. Chapter 4

_Coinnle corra_ and _néalfartach_ , brewed into a concoction that forced the drinker into a sleep like death, only to wake when the poisoner willed it so. Grainne’s weapon of choice in her bid for autonomy, to escape the clutches of an unhappy union and marriage to an aging man. Diarmuid pauses, shakes his head to clear it. Any toxin could render a human into a coma, Assassin surely had a plethora. He was merely seeing parallels where there were none, haunted by his tragedy. Sola Ui was not Grainne. The docks of Fuyuki are rapidly approaching as he leaps over the rooftops, having watched an eldritch horror fall in a cascade of brilliance. It reminds him of the warmth of your hands in his, your smile when you assured him that everything would be alright. That you were thankful for his presence, liked him.

 _Like_ , simple, uncomplicated fondness for another. Such sentiment is not love, it is not lust, just enjoyment of companionship. He had basked in that light, the glimmering gold of your bond. He cherishes you, feels his heart swell and swell when he’s by your side as if your affection could swallow the woes of history like day overtook night. It’s leaving the worst of his past behind and he wonders how it could ever have taken him centuries to grapple with the scars of his first life when mere weeks with you have soothed those wounds like a miracle. Even if you don’t remember him...just being here, it isn’t enough but it’s better than all those centuries of absence.

It’s because he’d fallen for you all those years ago. Recklessly, impulsively, hopelessly and desperately. He thinks of you at the sight of the stars overhead, tastes sweetness at the memory of treats he associates with the sound of your laugh or the way your eyes shine when he finds a new favourite thing in the modern world. He’s charmed, captivated and delighted just to be in your presence and it’s pure foolishness. But to let it go would be more painful.

Not that it is his choice. Nothing ever seems to be.

Instead, he’s here, scouting what remains of some watery monstrosity and seeking out Servants tired from their battle at the behest of Kayneth. A despicable technique, one that he had not even tried to foist upon his own Heroic Spirit Gilgamesh. Especially not given his recent state, unable to utilise magecraft with his circuits blown to pieces from his duel with Kritisugu. Nonetheless, such an ordeal had failed to humble him in the slightest. No, instead he had taken it out on Lancer, the one with no choice but to obey when you were at the mercy of their assistance. Winds buffet him indifferently as you lie beneath the cold stark lighting of that warehouse, miles away unconscious and dying. Destined to leave him. Whether it was now or later, it mattered little--

And to think these thoughts, was dangerous. Threatened to tip him into throes of sorrow. To know he had failed once again in protecting his leige, someone he adored and respected, that he was slated for catastrophe once again. Or perhaps it was his fickle heart that was to blame, for reaching out too soon, to cling to doomed hopes. He stops, peering at the two figures below. A man in a red cloak, billowing as his face holds a hard grimace while a woman in blue and silver stands at his side.

“Ah Lancer, a little late.” Rider comments airily. “If you’re here to pick off survivors--”

“That is indeed what has been ordered of me, but I have no intention of fighting either of you in this state when you have just defeated Caster at your own expenses.” he interrupts coolly, and something like wry acceptance flashes across his red eyes.

“Ha! So you’ve been subject to a poor Master as well this fine Grail war? And here I thought your little lady was not so bad. Well, at least that cup was fair in cursing everyone, why the King of Knights here is in alliance with Berserker who is so mad he can barely be restrained from attacking her at every opportunity!”

“ _Rider_.”

“Ah...my apologies. But it is not as if it isn’t common knowledge after that little scuffle you two had by the harbour that time.” he explained sheepishly.

“It is not my Master that is the problem.” Diarmuid corrects a touch sharply as Artoria shoots Iskander a dirty look. “It is Archer’s.”

“Yes, that Servant is rather insufferable.” agrees Saber, finally turning away from the choppy black waves at the change of subject. “But why would his magus have any bearing over your actions--?”

She stops abruptly, eyes widening for a second as a whispered name leaves her lips. _Tokiomi._ Then, she is gone, yanked away by Command Seal as the two Servants blink in surprise at this sudden dismissal. The King of Conquerors shakes his head.

“The war marches onwards, hm?” he notes lowly, tone uncharacteristically serious. “While I had not the chance to bid her goodbye, do let her know for me.”

“Are you departing now?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, my Master is a twisted man that I cannot abide by. He must be slain.” he said nonchalantly, as if murdering one’s anchor were a decision to be made lightly.

“You would betray your magus?” questioned Lancer, bristling slightly at this display of treachery.

“He is no mage, just a psychopath and child torturer. I would have done so earlier had I been aware...but as it so happened, I was made to rest along leylines to conserve my reserves. When I returned to that twisted man, he was ecstatic at having found Caster’s lair, a den of mutilated corpses. I fear destroying that place and the worm-infested victim that Caster had made of his Master pushed that Servant to unleash his creature upon this city to seek mana. Regardless, it doesn’t matter now, there is no cure for his affliction, and if I must sacrifice my dream of Okeanas to put an end to Ryuunosuke's violations then so be it.”

“...He is the serial killer that has been in the news broadcasts.” surmised Diarmuid with a sigh at what this tournament had become.

It had been naive to believe that there was honour to be had in this era. This was merely punishment for their sins, a temporary vision that once again, innocents were tossed aside in a quest for power by the few. Yet...that must not be entirely true. For he still had you. Could still feel your heartbeat next to his own even if your link had long since become frigid and dark. No, surely this would all have amounted to _something_ once you woke again, were reunited with him. 

But fate was not finished spiting him, his bad luck had yet to run its course. It feels like electricity, burns like lightning and Saber’s stricken expression before her departure makes all too much sense in that moment. His fingers dig into his chest, aghast at the sensation he feels. It destroys him inside. He leaves wordlessly, terribly adrift as your Command Seals are severed, circuits shredded from the inside. This had been a ruse, a distraction. A ploy to send him away so that they could steal your spells, where he could not protect you. Of course it had been. Kayneth’s voice rings through his mind, and he dreads what he will utter. Hates him irrevocably then, wants nothing more than to rip him apart, that vile aristocrat who would think nothing of slaughtering his dearest (Name). After he had conceded to his every demand...

_By my Command Seal, you are prohibited from harming either Sola Ui or I._

\--*--

You wake, your dream lost in that schism between consciousness and sleep. It was important, you were sure of it, the war all over again...but through Lancer’s eyes, not your own. But it’s gone, forgotten in those waning seconds. You blinked tiredly, feeling your Servant’s sturdy arms nestling you against his broad chest, his breathing at your back. You can feel him rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand, wonder how long he’s been awake. He shifts, noticing that your eyes have opened, presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning, (Name).” he whispered lowly, holding you close, massaging your shoulders and his touch is hungry, needy.

You hum uncertainty in response, assuming he had crawled into bed with you after you had fallen asleep given that he had darted out to do whatever he did after your conversation last night. 

“Morning, how are you?”

“Fine. You on the other hand, feel tired...It takes too much to support me, hm?” he purrs ‘sympathetically’, fingers skimming beneath your clothes. “Let me take care of you~”

You grab at his wandering hands, surprised at his brazenness, this lust and passion that consumes your connection. It was true, that your mana reserves were stretched to accommodate his costs, but you didn’t think it was so obvious that he would suggest a transfer like this. His lips trail down to your neck, nipping and enjoying the way you squirm in his grip that cages you in, tight and possessive.

“Woah, easy there...what’s brought this on?” you ask startled, a he inhales deeply.

“You require mana. I am here to attend to said need. Especially given the current circumstances, it’s best to maintain a steady supply, we shouldn’t wait until we’re desperate…” he says simply, heat roiling off him in waves, his limbs entangled with yours. “I want to hear you calling my name in worship beneath me…”

He traces your jawline, the intensity of his gaze and amorous advances vivid, ravenous.

“...I don’t know if having a casual affair is...wise.” you reply hesitantly, remembering his confession during your first time together. 

“Excellent, let’s be exclusive then.” he suggests immediately, even as you exhale sadly.

“...I thought about you after Fuyuki. About how you Heroic Spirits are only summoned on borrowed time during crises, to do battle.” you rolled over so you could face him. “Just a couple months, maybe a little under a year in this case. We’re ships passing in the night, destined for different ports…Even long distance relationships are a struggle, let alone something like us...”

“No.” he snaps, clutching you irately as if you might slip from him like smoke. “We can have a lifetime together, ~~more than that~~. (Name), I know a place...beyond the Throne and Chaldea. Somewhere we could be happy, safe, without all this bloodshed.” 

_If you had only not destroyed that Grail...we could have had it all. We could have left this behind by now._

“What do you mean?”

_You call it Avalon._

“The Isle of Apples, I have been there before, to the Land Under the Waves. It is a paradise, a realm akin to the world during the Age of the Gods. I need to take us there, and I’ll do it with or without the help of those acursed cups.”

“How? What about humanity? Can anything there help us?”

He shakes his head impatiently, squeezes you slightly. No, no you don’t understand. Of course you wouldn’t. Only you matter to him, anyone else on this Earth is simply collateral. It was already doomed regardless by these singularities, there was no point in adding yourselves to the list of casualties. But he doesn’t say that, instead he simpers, caresses you gently, buries the anguished question that he wants to say.

_Why couldn’t you just love me enough?! Love me enough to follow me to the ends of the Earth like I would for you..._

Alas, deception is his only option. Eternity was too great a prize to forgo for anything this world might have to offer, was worth sacrificing what little remained of his precious ideals and honour. One day, you would accept the decisions he would make...for if not you, there was no one else.

“Yes, there is great power there. I would gain strength upon being returned to the land of my legends, we could use this to ensure that the future is preserved.” he told you quietly, not that he had any intention of doing so.

“I see…” you glanced away, mulling over his words. “You said you could attain more time, there’s a way to obtain a physical form there?”

Unlikely, but then again...corporeal bodies were not requisite in _Tír nAill_. There would be enough magic in the Otherworld for him to exist without a contract, as a separate being as opposed to just a Servant, a shadow. Without the risk of your Command seals. Nonetheless, your reasoning is sound in a general sort of way, and these days he chooses not to elaborate when the assumptions suit him.

“Essentially.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON’T KKNOW IF I LIKE MY PLOT, so not sure if I’ll finish this fic orz. Half the time I’m like...yeah this sounds okay and the other half I’m like STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM THAT IS TERRRIBLE DON’T POST xD But here I am anyway, so enjoy or not if you please xD Thanks for the feedback people have given me, <33 Appreciate it!
> 
> Also my headcanon is that Diar has always been thirsty (lol read his legends and apparently he was getting around in his youth xD) but keeps it hidden under all his honour shenanigans which are less rooted in his Avenger form so he's more free to be openly horny xD


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